Growing Pains
by A Grayer Shade of Gray
Summary: Jack and Gunnar have disappeared. Ross needs to fill Gunnar's spot. He calls Church and is referred to a retired Canadian LtCnl Sam Dominey, but will this Afghanistan Vet be everything Ross and the crew need to replace the big German? COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

Okay, so Raven028 owns Jack; I own Sam. Neither of us own any of the other characters, but she and her Mysterious Muse friend have been kind enough to loan me Jack for the time being. The story introducing more of what Jack is about can be found here: .net/s/6536004/1/

Please R & R both stories.

Cheers,

- Gray

Chapter 1:

"I can't believe they'd just leave us like this," said Christmas. "We need Gunnar for this job."

"You can't? It sounds exactly like something they'd do," said Ying Yang from his perch on the desk. "Those two don't care about the team; just themselves." It had never been a secret that Ying Yang had never quite gotten over the ego kicking from when he and Gunnar toussled a year ago.

"Enough," Ross declared. "I'll go see Church tomorrow. He'll have someone who can replace Gunnar for this mission." He didn't want to hear any more of it. Jack was like a daughter to him and Gunnar... Well, he and Gunnar went way back.

"Maybe we should look for a permanent replacement," the small Asian man who had experienced little but trouble from the large German said.

"Enough!"

"He'll be back when he gets enough of her," said Tool like the wise, old grandfather of the group, even though he was no older than Barney.

The group disbanded with the decision, a temporary replacement would be found, but if the replacement turned out to work well with the group, an unlikely circumstance given the odd dynamic, then he'd be offered permanent status, and Gunnar and Jack, both of whom had proved to be very unreliable in the past, would be the temps brought in for odd jobs when necessary.

As it was, Jack already was a temp. She wasn't good in the jungle, didn't like bugs, dirt or long stake outs. Her temper made her useless for infiltration and no one would ever mistake her for being an innocent bystander in a plant. She was great at making a scene, causing destruction and in sighting violence.

The next morning Barney met with Mister Church and discussed the problem.

"I think I've got the perfect solution for you," Mister Church said. "Lieutenant Colonel Sam Dominey. War vet; served 8 years in Afghanistan with the Canadian army. Can shoot anything; can drive anything. Discharged last year as a result of some legal entanglement with one of the contractors."

"Selling secrets?" Barney asked; he had no interest in taking on someone who was willing to sell out their own country. The Canadian military was different; he'd never worked with a Canadian. He imagined that this Sam would be able to work on his own gear better than most of the others, and probably had a working knowledge of mechanics and aviation too. It seemed those Canucks were always understaffed and under armed as of late.

"No; assault," Church said handing over the file. It had all the information, though some was blacked out.

"No picture?"

"This isn't a beauty contest, Ross."

"Fair enough. Send him over tonight."

And with that, it was done. Gunnar's empty spot for this rescue mission was filled. Barney continued to read Dominey's jacket, noting the marksmanship records and awards as well as the numerous awards and medals given for bravery and leadership while in the field. And eight years in Afghanistan? Not many on the crew had ever seen active combat like that, and none had seen it in the last decade. It'd be nice to work with a real soldier again.

Jack was the closest they had, but her understanding of the discipline of a soldier was none existent. She hadn't lasted long enough in Marine training to reach active combat. She challenged authority and was a loose cannon; she wouldn't have lasted long even if she had been deployed.

And a Lieutenant Colonel to boot.

"Sam?"

"Church."

"Got a job for you."

"Perfect."


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, so Raven028 owns Jack; I own Sam. Neither of us own any of the other characters, but she and her Mysterious Muse friend have been kind enough to loan me Jack for the time being. The story introducing more of what Jack is about can be found here: .net/s/6536004/1/

Please R & R both stories.

Cheers,

- Gray

Chapter 2:

After receiving the details of the job from Church, Dominey was eager to get started. A cut and dry rescue operation off the coast of Cuba. 25k for the job and a trip to the Caribbean? Why argue that!

The CBR1000 pulled up to Tool's garage, immediately drawing the attention of the guys inside. The only one of them that rode a sport bike was Christmas. His Ducati 900 stood out among the Harleys and custom choppers in the shop.

"This must be Dominey," Christmas said leaning to Ross. "I can't believe you didn't get a picture of this ass hole before you hired him."

"If I had gone on looks you wouldn't be here," Barney shot back without hesitation. The others laughed.

What did make them hesitate was when Dominey got off the bike. Something about the way he stood. He wore cargo pants tucked into combat boots, but had very small feet. He was about six feet tall, but a fairly slender frame, much like Ying Yang but stretched. A thick leather jacket was zipped up all the way and the boys couldn't see through the reflective visor on his Arai helmet.

Sam took off the helmet and there was a moment of stunned silence.

"Well fuck me," said Tool, bringing his pipe to his lips.

Sam must have been short for Samantha, not Samuel. That or he was a very convincing cross dresser.

"But the stunned looks on your face and the awkward silence I'm guessing Church didn't tell you?" she asked, jutting her hip out to balance her helmet on it.

"Tell us what?" Chirstmas said, already seeing the problems that would come up if Jack came back and saw Sam here.

"That I'm a woman?"

"No, he didn't," Ross said, recovering quickly. "But it doesn't matter; your jacket was enough for us to bring you aboard."

"Well thank you," she said with a nod of her head. "I understand it's a rescue mission?"

"Yes," said Christmas. They started explaining the mission. Tool offered Sam a seat next to him, but she politely declined, preferring to stand.

Christmas was impressed by her posture, and her height. With Gunnar gone, Sam was now the second tallest of the group. He was a leg and ass man, and to his dismay her combat issue pants allowed neither to be showcased, but if he had to guess she had a 36" inseam. Legs for miles usually lead to an ass worth travelling to. All he could see was her face, it was a nice face, however, but not a stunning beauty like Jack. Sam wouldn't be stopping traffic, but Christmas could see how in a dessert fox hole surrounded by men she'd turn into an oasis. She had copper hair hanging around her shoulders with some shaggy bangs hanging over her right eye.

"Originally we were going to have you cover for Gunnar, but I think we might have to rethink it," said Ross.

"We could use you long range, sweetheart," Christmas added.

"Sam works fine," she corrected him. "And long range, short range; I'm more experienced than most. I spent most of the last eight years living in the line of fire, remember. I don't need protection and I'm not afraid of getting dirty."

"That might be true, but having cover would be good for infiltration," Ying Yang said. "She could watch and be our eyes."

The crew nodded. "We don't always have that luxury," Caeser said. "Might keep us from getting in as much trouble."

"If that's what you guys want," she said with a knowing nod. "As long as you aren't thinking I can't handle myself," she added. "I'm a big girl; no need to put the kid gloves on for me, gentlemen."

"Don't worry, sweet-Sam," Christmas caught himself. "If we treat you different, it won't be because you're a girl."

"Woman," she corrected him again.

Damn her, Christmas thought. She was a total change from Jack who was flirtatious, fun loving, a little wild and yes, a bit of a loose cannon; Sam was turning out to be an ice queen. And, to his own dismay, he was finding her chill a little ... hot.

"When is wheels up?" she said, hooking her helmet on her handle bar and shifting her weight again.

"Christmas here," Ross said guesturing to the bald British man who had twice been corrected by Sam. "And I will go do a preliminary fly by and scout on Friday. Wheels up will be Saturday. That gives you three days to get your gear together; is that enough?"

"Yes sir," she said with a strict nod of her head. There was no denying it, Sam was a military operative; she would not let anything get in the way of the mission.

"No need to call me Sir, Sam," Ross said, dipping his chin to her. "You out rank every one of us, so technically we'd be calling you 'Ma'am.'"

"Or Sir," said Christmas, trying to make a joke.

"I've been discharged," she corrected. "I don't have any rank, technically speaking."

"Well," Barney said, cracking a smile. "Regardless, you don't need to call us sir. I'm Ross, this as I said before is Christmas. Over there is Ying Yang, next to him Caeser and Toll Road. And behind you," he gestured to the man smoking his pipe who smiled and waved. "Is Tool. This is his place, but he's kind enough to let us use it as a base of operations of sorts."

Sam nodded that she understood but didn't offer anything else. "Are we finished?" she asked to the surprise of the crew. When Jack had been brought aboard, kicking and screaming, she had made dozens of innuendos, flirted with each one of them and ran her mouth off all while languishing very suggestively on half the bikes in the shop, regardless of owner. It was clear: Sam was not Jack.

"Uh, yeah, I guess," said Barney looking to his friends who nodded, all be it a little awkwardly. "Yeah, we're done. Any questions?"

"Nope," she said with a shake of her head as she picked up her helmet. "If you don't have any for me, I'm good."

"I've got one for ya," said Christmas as he stood up from where he was leaning against his Duke. "Why do you have such a stick up your..."

"Woah!" Toll intercepted Sam before another word escaped Christmas' mouth; it might have been the last for a while. She had begun lunging for him, planning to take him out at the knees and drop him onto the hard floor. Toll, however, was able to wrap her around her arms and waist, pulling her off the ground just a little.

"Fuck you," she hissed, but she didn't lash out at the large man holding her.

"Christmas, relax," Ross shot.

"She ain't fuckin' Jack; leave it alone," said Tool. "You ain't gotta bust her balls just because she isn't flashing her tits at you or fallin for that stupid accent of yours."

"If she were a man, you would not be bothered," said Ying Yang. "You would probably comment on her bike. It is your style."

"Fuck you all," Christmas said, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

"Don't take it personally," said Tool. "He's just a little sensitive. Recently realized he's the second choice to a giant German."

Sam shrugged. "His deal. As long as it won't affect the mission," she said, looking to Ross who shook his head, no.

"Leave him to me."

"So, what's the story about that bike you got there," said Tool, pushing off his stool and moving to closer inspect her CBR. "2010 CBR; what's that motor?"

"1000cc," she said as she watched Tool inspect the machine. "Grew up riding dirt bikes, racing motocross and cross countries with my dad and brothers. Just natural that I keep up with bikes, but I can't really ride my dirt bike down the street so I had to get something more street appropriate."

"I'd say this fits the bill," Tool said, his eyes looking over the whole of the bike. "But why a Honda? Why this bike?"  
"I had a sponsorship from Honda when I was younger, before I entered the army. Not factory, but I always liked their machines. Reliable, strong, sexy..." She shrugged, obviously becoming increasingly uncomfortable as the questions were getting more personal.

"It's a lot of machine," he said admiringly. "Gotta be a lot of woman to control that. Of course, as a Lieutenant Colonel, I'm guessing controlling this little bad boy isn't all that difficult now is it?"

"Retired," she corrected, this time with a smile.

"Aw, sugar, you're too young to be retired already, guess that's why you're here, ain't it?" he said with a smirk. Tool always was a charmer.

"Discharged," she admitted.

"Church didn't say why, but only that it was due to some legal issue; assault?" Ross asked, prying a little deeper.

"Don't want to get into it, if it's all the same," Sam said with a toss of her head. "What time?"

"1800 hours," Ross replied.

"I'll be here, geared and ready to go," she said, hooking her helmet off the handlebar. "You've got my number on the file?" she asked, as an afterthought.

"Naw," said Ross. "Lemme get you..." he stopped. The tall redhead had already popped the visor up on her helmet, slipped it on her arm and pulled a pen from her pocket. She grabbed his left arm and wrote her number on the inside of his forearm.

"Well, now you do," she said, matter of factly, and once again reminding the remaining Expendables that she wasn't Jack. Jack would have wrote it more seductively, tucking her body against Barney, letting him catch just a gentle whiff of her perfume. Jack would have wrote it in eye liner rather than pen. Jack probably wouldn't have nearly crushed his wrist when she jerked it around.

The, without a word, the helmet was on, the bike fired up and wheeled around before laying a thick strip of rubber down as she tore out of the garage and down the alley.

"At least we don't have to give her a boost to the bar," said Toll, ever the positive thinker.

"Let's be honest," Hale said with a chuckle. "We bring her to Jack's bar, there's gonna be a cat fight."

"I'd take bets on that fight," said Tool with a laugh.


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, so Raven028 owns Jack; I own Sam. Neither of us own any of the other characters, but she and her Mysterious Muse friend have been kind enough to loan me Jack for the time being. The story introducing more of what Jack is about can be found here: .net/s/6536004/1/To_Tame_A_Demon

Please R & R both stories.

Also, this Chapter is dedicated to my reviewer: Kikikiki

Cheers,

- Gray

Chapter 3:

"Speaking of, no one has heard from the Love Birds yet?" Ross asked, more concerned than curious about the gossip.

"Don't go worrying after those two," Tool said, returning to his position on his bike, leaning against the custom chopper. "Like I said, when they get tired of each other they'll be back."

"In the mean time, this new one seems to be a good option," Ying Yang said. "She seems to be... Normal."

"Guys, maybe lay off the comparisons to Jack when Christmas is around," said Ross.

"Yeah," Toll agreed. "You'd be pretty crushed if your dream girl picked you second to Gunnar, too." They all laughed.

"Just keep it civil, I'm sure there will be plenty of time for things to get nasty when Jack finds out about Sam," Ross said. "I'm going to go talk to Christmas. The rest of you are dismissed."

The guys went their separate ways. Tool had a walk in and set to work.

Barney went upstairs.

"So, what was that all about?" Ross said.

"What was what about?" said Christmas, who had been throwing knives at a target across the room. It used to be a lunch room back when this was a legitimate garage, and it still had many of the same traits. There was a table with a few chairs, a fridge that worked and a microwave that didn't.

Ross rolled his eyes. "You know what I'm talking about," he said, turning one of the chairs around and sitting on it backwards. "You can't treat Sam like that just because she isn't Jack."

"Who said I was treating her anyway?" he said, punctuating his question with a toss of his knife. It found just right of the bullseye.

Barney took a deep breath and shook his head. "She picked Gunnar; you're going to have to live with her decision. Eventually they're going to come back, and you're going to have to live with her choices, Christmas."

"It just ain't fair," the other man admitted, pulling his blade out of the target.

"Not much in life is," Ross admitted. "But you gotta accept, it was Jack's choice."

"I don't have to accept shit, Barn," the Brit said, brandishing his knife. "I've never gone down without a fight and I don't intend to start now."

"Look, I don't want any more infighting than I need on the team," Ross said in a warning tone. "I'm already preparing for the shit storm Sam's going to cause when your dream girl feels the need to breeze back in, don't make me put you in that group too."

The Brit rounded on him, but Barn stood his ground, unmoving. "I hope you watch yourself with that temp," he said, his voice cold and accusatory. "I wouldn't want things to get out of hand. We might have a situation."

"Do we have a situation, Lee?"

There was a moment of awkward silence. "No."

"Good," the other man nodded. "Her jacket read good, you admitted that yourself. She's more than qualified for the work. Don't go getting jealous on behalf of Jack. That woman's more than able to do that much for herself."

There it was again. The comparisons to Jack. Jack was hot, in temper, body and personality. Sam was cold. Opposites, so why does Ross keep comparing them? Why did Christmas? From what he'd seen, Sam was not the vixen Jack was. In fact, when he thought about it, Sam was quite plain. She hadn't worn much make up, her hair had been loose, but wasn't spectacular or wild. He was already starting to forget what she had looked like.

"You think it's going to be trouble when Jack gets back?"

"Is the sky blue?" Ross retorted with a bark of laughter. He'd begin preperations for the armeggeddon that would be Jack's return and discovery.

"Ever wonder why women get so jealous?" Christmas asked, taking a seat next to Ross.

"You'll drive yourself mad trying to figure out women, Christmas," the older man replied with a knowing nod. He'd played that game time and again and never been the winner.

"Maybe it has to do with us," Christmas said. It was then Ross noticed the half empty bottle of Jamieson's on the table. Lee'd been drinking. That explains his new found philosophical side.

"Lee, maybe you need some sleep," Ross said. "Sleep it off on the couch. Tool won't give you your keys until you're dried out."

"You're a good friend, Barn," the half drunk man said with a nod, clapping his hand on his buddy's shoulder.

Ross stood and left. Yeah, a good friend. He'd heard that line before too.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Again, Raven028 and her friend own the still seen Jack; I own Sam. Neither of us own anything else.

Cheers!

- Gray

Chapter 4:

"Wheels up," Ross said. The crew was aboard and they were Havana bound. He was impressed when Sam had shown up early, with her own gear no less, being so used to having to wait for Jack and her moods and turns of fancy, and having to supply her with a fire arm. She had plenty of her own, but Ross suspected he took advantage of their generosity, not wanting to lose one of her own toys in the middle of a fire fight. It was much more convienient to lose someone else's weapon than your own.

She was strapped in the cargo with Toll Road, Hale Caeser and Ying Yang, a large case tucked under her legs.

"Aren't you going to sight in?" Toll asked, leaning his arms on his knees as he watched her.

"Already done."

"Make sure it calibrated?" Offered Caeser.

"Done."

"What about..." Toll was about to ask another inane question when she shook her head.

"I'm not sure what kind of opperation this is, but I'm a soldier, gentlemen," she said in a very officious tone. "If I am not prepared for a strike, I do not participate. Simple enough."

"Fair enough," said Toll with an accepting nod of his head.

While Christmas hadn't been totally impressed or convinced during their first meeting, the rest of the team felt that a no-nonsense addition to the team like Sam might be just what the doctor ordered, and as Ying Yang had mentioned after she left, replacing Gunnar and Jack with her was like getting two opperatives for the price of one. And it would increase everyone's individual take home. She wasn't a sex pot, but to these particular Expendables it didn't matter. Jack hadn't really shown Toll, Caeser or Yang any reason to prefer her over another woman.

"Rugby player?" Sam asked, tilting her head to the side, noticing Toll's cauliflower ear.

"How'd you know?"

"Played in high school," she said, before unbuttoning the top button at her throat, pulling her fatigue tunic aside to show him the deformation on her collar bone. "Second row for four years; started three of them. Ended up breaking my collar bone."

Toll nodded, noticing the bulge where her collar bone hadn't properly healed. "No pain?"

"Not any more," she said with a bit of a laugh. "Full movement and I can put pressure on it. Did the other side in riding motocross."

"Just a girl of destruction, aren't you?"

She shrugged with a wry smirk. These three were comfortable; they reminded her of some of the guys she had served with in Afghanistan; they were really just average Joes who were very good at what they did. Just so happened that outside the military the legitimate economy didn't have much use for their particular skills. Tool fell into that category too. She wasn't too sure of Ross, but found Christmas... lacking.

For one, he was far too concerned what this "Jack" would think.

Enough, she thought to herself. Game time. She pushed out everything, falling silent as the guys kept talking amongst themselves. She leaned back, closing her eyes and breathing deeply, rebuttoning her tunic and jacket.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Again, Raven028 and her friend own the still seen Jack; I own Sam. Neither of us own anything else.

Chapter 5:

The wheels touched down and Sam and the rest of the crew unbuckled. Ross and Christmas had gone over what would be done before they took off.

Sam had a map and compass. She would hike to the top of the ridge, radio in when she was in position. She fixed the throat communicator and tested it; they could hear her. She had her rifle, a knife and a side arm and assured them it was more than enough protection.

The plan was Sam would be their eyes, Ying Yang would be their swift mover and, if that failed, Caeser and Toll, along with the other two, would be the cavalry.

Their target was a young man, 23 years old, who had gone on about his rich father while on spring break. Some enterprizing Cubans capitalized on their chance and had kidnapped him. The father hadn't got rich by just paying anyone anything. The randsom was more than it would cost to get a decent extraction, so here they were.

"In place," Sam's voice whispered into the collective ears of the group. "Yang, your best bet is the North enterance; only one guard. Give me the signal and I'll take care of that for you."

"She must have found a good spot," Ross said, looking at Christmas with an "I told you so," look on his face.

Christmas made a face, crinkling his lip and rolling his eyes.

The men advanced with the four larger bodies stopping while still hidden by the tree line.

"We're at the tree line," Ross spoke into his comm.

"Hold; the guards are patrolling. It'll take them five minutes to turn the corner. Yang, you have a two minute window to penetrate the building on my count."

"And we're giving her controll because..." Christmas said, muting his mic while he asked.

"Because she's the only one of us with active duty in her recent memory," said Yang, unusually mouthy. "She won't get me killed. You all want to shoot first, question later. She thinks."

"Thanks for the compliment." Obviously Ying Yang hadn't muted his mic. "Go. Now!" she gave the cue from her distant watch.

The guys heard the shot and just as the guard at the north enterance was getting ready to bring his gun to bear on Yang he was thrown back, dropping dead from a shot through the chest. It left a big hole and was an instant kill.

"He's inside."

"Keep watching."

"Got it, Boss."

Sam kept them updated as Yang ran through the building, using his small size and speed to infiltrate faster than the others could have hopped. Their recon had said the boy was being held in the centre of the building. Yang had little trouble getting in; but getting out might be the tricky part.

Sam took out a second guard. "Yang might need some help," she announced. "Don't know if he had time to signal what he saw.

Sure enough, the sirens started and the lights went up and the place was lit up like the bright of day in an instant. Sam let out a groan as he night vision scope became useless, pulling out another one and quickly swapping them out.

"Sam?" It surprised her it was Christmas that asked first.

"I'm ok, just a little dazed; the lights came on awful fast. We've got six guards on the north, Yang. Go south." She offered. "Guys, might want to join him. I'll keep clearing them off the north until you're inplace."

"Copy that." The boys set out.

"I'm there."

"You are fast aren't you?" she said, switching her scopes again and aiming towards the south end of the building. "You've got six guards still..."

"Good numbers," Toll replied before they jumped from the bush, rushing the guards from the front as Yang and the boy came from behind.

"Caeser, aim high, Yang's behind the guard."

"Is that a short joke?"

"Just stating a fact."

"Cut the chatter," Ross' firm fatherly voice came over the mic.

The mission continued as they had expected, with Yang bringing the package into their lines. As the boys turned and began to hoof it back to the reandeauveaux point Sam decamped and began to sprint to the plane. There were a lot of unfriendlies following them. She climbed into the bird and tossed her case and bag into the cargo before launching into the cockpit.

It was an older plane, but it wasn't so old she didn't know what to do, afterall, she had been in the Canadian military, not the US. Flying planes and helicopters older than her was old hat.

Preflight check: done. She started the props; the boys were close enough she could hear them shouting, cursing that the plane had already been started, wondering what was going on.

"Relax, it's me," Sam said. "You guy's have a running target," she said as the sea plane turned, ready to angle itself out of the small inlet where Ross had put her down. "Hurry."

"Aye Aye," Christmas said, his breathing hard as the run was taking it's toll just about now.

She heard the men climb aboard, Caeser hung out the door to fire off one last .50 calibre round before slamming the door closed.

Ross settled into the seat next to her. "You can fly this thing?"

She just looked at him and gently pushed the accellerator forward, pulling the stick in. The plane lurched forward, the nose angling up as she did. Her attention returned to the task at hand; she wasn't concerned about showing off her skills. This wasn't a pissing contest; it was a job.

Christmas stuck his head in, ready to fling into the seat that was occupied by Sam. First she takes Jack's spot, now she's vying for his? He wanted to drag her out of his spot by her hair, but a warning look from Ross told him to go to the back and wait patiently like a good little boy.

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you?" Ross said with an appreciative grin. "When we get this thing in the air, if you want to go call Christmas up. I think he's a little jealous; you're sitting in his spot."

"He doesn't like me very much," she said. It wasn't a question, just a statement.

"Don't let it get to you, hun," Ross said, putting his headphones on, making it easier for the two to communicate. "He doesn't like a lot of people."

"He seems awful fond of this Jack person." Was he crazy, or did she sound kind of hurt? It wouldn't be hard to imagine as a rough, military type woman that she had been a man's type of girl growing up, a tom boy, and had always been loosing the Hero to the girlie girl princess, not that Jack was a princess... Or maybe she was... Her eyes were focussed on the sky ahead of her, flicking down to the glowing dials in front of her every now and then.

"Don't let him get to you," Ross said, clapping a fatherly hand to her shoulder. "You did good back there; those couldn't have been easy shots. You were pretty far away, and without your extra eyes Yang would have walked right into the ambush and who knows what kind of mess we'd be in."

"Thanks," she nodded.

When the plane was at cruising height she made good and stood, taking the headphones off and leaving them on the chair, proceeding back into the hold. She gestured to Christmas with a tip of her face, as if to point at him with her nose. "Your spot's empty," was all she said.

She could swear she heard him mutter "Cold hearted bitch," as he wandered by.

"Woof."

She stalled him for a second as he passed from the hold to the cockpit. That's right, she thought to herself. Caught ya, you limey ass hole.


	6. Chapter 6

Jack = Raven028 and her Mystery Muse; Sam = mine. Nothing else. Nothing's changed.

This chapter is dedicated too... *thinks* Raven028. Hope you're keeping a breast of what's happening. I know I said Jack should show up Chapter 4/5 ish, but you know how it goes. Sometimes these characters get a mind of their own and won't listen to the plan!

- Gray

Chapter 6:

The crew broke rank when they got back to the States, meeting up at Tool's with the intention of going out for a victory pint after.

"I don't see why she's invited," said Christmas in a low tone to Ross. "She isn't part of the team."

"She's as much a part of the team as anyone else," Yang stood up for her, again. It was more his dislike of Gunnar and Jack now; Sam's sharp shooting, good timing and quick thinking had pretty much saved his ass, and ensured the big pay day. "She saved my life."

"Yeah well," Christmas rolled her eyes but stopped as a familiar bike rolled into the garage.

Gunnar's custom chopper rolled in. It was a stretched out version of an old Harley hard tail, with rail forks on the front. With the large man on it the bike looked awkward but functional. The sweep of the front end made turning a bitch, and a smaller man would have a hard time getting the lean required to make a gentle turn, let alone a sharp one.

A collective breath was released when it was seen that no, Gunnar was in fact solo and Jack was not riding bitch. That would have been more than a little awkward as Sam was scheduled to show up shortly; she had wanted to go home and "wash up" a bit before going out. They guys indulged her, and were preparing for the three hour wait it ususally took Jack to freshen up after a mission.

"Gunnar!" Ross said with a smile. "Feelin' better are ya? We thought you'd died and gone to heaven?"

There was a groan and a laugh.

"Where's Jack tonight?" Christmas asked, getting a cold look from the German. He knew what Christmas meant; he wanted to know if Gunnar had tossed her aside so he could come in and sweep her off her feet like the white knight he imagined himself to be.

"Dunno, don't care," he said with a shrug. "What's this you went on a mission with out me?"

"We tried calling you, but we figured you had... uh," Ross stopped for a minute, and it was all the invitation Tool needed.

"We figured you hadn't come up for air yet, and why ruin a happy honey moon?" he smiled the charismatic smile that even women young enough to be his granddaughters couldn't resist.

"Everyone looks okay; went good?" Gunnar asked, leaning forward on his bike, putting the kick stand down and taking the balance off his long legs. It kinked him to the left, but he compensated to keep his vision straight.

"The temp worked great," said Toll Road, nodding as he looked to the others who agreed, aside from Christmas.

"Quick in and out; no one got hurt who didn't deserve it," said Hale. "Jack tending tonight?"

"Naw," he said. "She disappeared somewhere yesterday and won't return my messages. Whatever." It wasn't unlike Jack to just go AWOL for a while, saying she needed time for herself, she needed space, she needed chocolate and ice cream. It wasn't a big concern.

"You aren't worried something's happened to her?" Christmas asked, offended.

"She's a big girl, she can handle herself," Gunnar said with a knowing tone in his voice which shut Christmas up pretty fast. Truth was, when it came to the day to day stuff, if Jack could keep her head about her and her temper down, she could take on anything. Problem was she was never able to control her smart mouth or her vicious temper. Gunnar's worry, and he suspected Christmas' as well, was that one day she would mouth off to the wrong person, someone who would take it personal but not be blinded by rage the way she was, and then where would she be?

"So let's go to the Rail then," Hale said, knowing the boys got great service there. It was better when Jack was there, but it was great even when she wasn't. She had taught all of her girls that the Expendables were to be treated as family; special people, the best of the best, and no cost. Ever.

The low rumble of Sam's CBR drifted down the alley. Compared to the big choppers, she and Christmas made almost no noise, but when it was quiet, the angles of the alley made the noise echo.

"Your temp?" Gunnar asked, turning to watch as the slick red and black machine pulled in, but he didn't spend much time watching the bike and neither did anyone else.

This was a whole different Sam from their meet and greet, and certainly a different one from an hour ago.

She killed the engine, flicked the kickstand and dismounted, taking off her helmet and tossing her hair loose. It was bouncy, shiney and looked like molten copper. Her pale skin was flushed at her cheeks, her green eyes enhanced by make up she hadn't worn before; eye liner, eye shadow and mascara made the green gems sparkle. Her mouth, a thin pink line before, was lushious and enhanced with cosmetics as well.

She must have been wearing a sports bra before, because the guys were sure they wouldn't have missed her chest if she hadn't been. They weren't big, but they were very perky. She wasn't wearing overly suggestive clothing, but it was well fitted. A black polo shirt with a white long sleeved jersey shirt underneath; it nipped at her waist and was buttoned open low, but not too low. Her jeans were snug on her hips and thighs, dark washed and held up by a silver studded black belt witha Wonder Woman belt buckle. Following her long legs, the jeans tucked into a pair of brown suede knee high boots, they had a slight chunky heel and a cute fold over the foot.

Even Christmas found himself watching her as she twisted her hips and another blushed flushed her cheeks; she knew they were looking at her.

"So," she started off, bashfully looking down, trying not to find eye contact when anyone. "Are we going? Or gonna stay here for a drink or two?"

Tool was the first to jump on it. "Honey, when you dress like that, there ain't a man in here who wouldn't do exactly what you told them."

She laughed, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "Oh, I'm sure there's one," she tried to keep the venom out of her voice as she looked to Christmas for just a split second, then she noticed Gunnar.

Wow, she thought to herself. He was as big as a house; easily 6'6, well over 200 lbs. Big, broad and solid sholders, with arms as large as her thighs coming from his torn shirt sleeves. He had touseled, slightly greasy blonde hair, sky blue eyes and very angular face. He looked like someone had taken a Roman statue of Appollo and turned him into a mechanic.

In short, to Sam, he was goregeous.

She stumbled, but only for a second. It was partially because he was so attractive, but also because she was caught off guard. Had he been here and met her in her cargos and fatigues, she wouldn't have been so worried. Men tend to view you differently when their first introduction was a business transaction, she learned that from her service. She had many male friends who never thought her half as tough as she was, but they had known her growing up. Had seen her sillier side, had known her weaknesses, and worse, her insecurities. When it came to the military men in her life, these guys included, by introducing herself in very masculine clothing, she was able to hide any issues she might have had, so it didn't matter so much that in these jeans she had a little muffin top, or that in these ridiculous boots she towered at almost six feet, four inches tall. Ultimately, they'd go back to their first impression of her: Combat boots, Joe Rocket jacket and cargo pants; no make up, her hair au natural.

"You must be Gunnar," she finally said.

"And you are?"

"Retired Lueitenant Colonel Sam Dominey," Ross said, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against a support pole. "Your and Jack's replacement."

"Does Jack know?"

"If she answered her messages she might," Ross said, but shook off further questions, grabbing his helmet. "Let's go. Roll out."

The bikes fired up inside the shop, with Sam standing, still facing them in the door way. No one would be able to get around her, and she would have to back out to turn around, or so they thought.

She grabbed a big handful of clutch and front break, clicked down into first gear and gave her engine a rev. It purred like a kitten being teased with a toy before she dropped the clutch, planting her left foot, leaning her body to the left and let the bike drift. It skidded a full 180 degrees, leaving a cirlce of rubber on the smooth concrete at the opening of the shop.

"She's a show off Barn," Christmas said.

"If Jack could do that, she would, and you'd think she was the sexiest thing alive for it," Ross pointed out before pulling out to lead the band of misfits and rejects to Jack's bar, the Rail.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The bar was just jumping; the bouncer allowed the guys in with no questions asked, though he did give an extra long leer to Sam as she tucked in behind Gunnar, the only one taller than her in the boots. For his part, though, he played the good guy and ignored the new girl. He knew what was going to happen when Jack finally found out and he liked his balls just where they were, thank you very much.

The drinks started fast and hard, with Sam pushing her way to the bar for her own share the only place she saw room, right next to Christmas.

"Jamieson, neat," they said almost in unison.

There was a second of stunned silence as they looked each other over, sizing one another up for a second time. The bar maid pour the drinks and set about marking down.

"Your's is free, Lee," she said, tapping him on the hand in a very friendly manner. "But your's'll be $4.50 sugar," the cute blonde with big, fake tits and an eyebrow piercing said.

Sam reached into her back pocket, but was stopped, unexpectedly, by Christmas. "She's one of us, Lisa," he corrected her with a smile.

"Oh, okay," she said with a smile. "Sorry, sugar; drinks are on the house then." She giggled, tossed her head to the side and floated off to the dozens of other thirsty patrons.

"What was that about?" Sam asked, taking a sip of her whiskey, turning her back to the bar.

"Jack own's this place, out right, so we never pay for drinks here," he said idly over the rim of his glass. "Not sure how she's gonna react to you, but for tonight at least, you've earned the right to be one of the group. We'll deal with the blow out whenever Jack resurfaces."

"Because I put on tight jeans, make up and high heels?" she offered, tilting her head to the side with a smirk on her very inticing pink lips.

"Don't flatter yourself, sweet... Sam," he corrected himself again. "You were a good shot, you made sure Ying Yang didn't run into an ambush and get turned into hamburger, and getting the plane started was a good idea."

"Were those compliments?" she teased again.

"Don't push your luck," he warned her, finishing his drink and gesturing for another top up. "You too," he took Sam's glass and got her a second.

"So what does everyone mean when they say that?" she asked, taking a sip of the whiskey, drinking it slower this time. No need to get sloppy tonight.

"Says what?"

"'We'll deal with the blow out,'" she said in her best British accent. "Who is this Jack? And why are you all so afraid of her?" Sam really had no clue.

Christmas sighed. "It's complicated."

"It's always complicated," she said, challenging him. "But do your best. I've got a right to know if I'm in the shit, don't I?"

She was right; Christmas didn't want to admit it, but she was right. They had, unbeknownst to her, put her in the path of some pretty heavy duty destructive potential. Christmas was starting to like the idea, however; who doesn't like a cat fight? Of course, there was the chance that Jack might not win. She was fit, but so was Sam. Sam was also straight out of the military, and still very much in fighting shape.

"Jack's a girl who we brought on the team a while ago," Christmas admitted, not elaborating the way Sam had wanted.

"We?"

"I brought on the team," he said into his glass, almost low enough that Sam didn't hear above the din of the bar.

She couldn't help it; she laughed. "Oh man," she chuckled. "Did you bring her on so you could ... you know... "know" her?" His blushing cheeks and averted eyes were enough. She laughed a little more before sobering and shaking her head. "I'm sorry for laughing. It wasn't right. But I guess that's why you were all protective of her "territory," yes?"

Again, no answer. Must have hit the nail on the head again, she thought to herself.

"So, where is she now?"

"She ran off with Gunnar, that big German you met tonight. They disappeared about two weeks ago. Haven't heard a peep from her since."

Wow, Sam thought. Couldn't really blame her on that one. Gunnar was a fine looking piece of man meat. "Bet that hurt," she said, sympathetically. "But really, if she's content and off humping the jolly giant, why is everyone so worried about when she comes back?"

"Because," Christmas turned to look at her. "She's crazy."

"Like party all night and do coke crazy, or strap a bomb to herself and blow up the Pen Centre crazy?"

"Like come at you for no reason other than she feels her territory is being threatened crazy," Christmas' words were articulated and sticcatto.

"Bring her on," the woman at his side challenged with a lift of her glass. "Trust me; what ever she can do to me, I've experienced worse. I've been shot, stabbed, burn, blown up, banged up, broken and beat; I'm a big girl. I can handle myself."

"Speaking of," Christmas said, slyly noticing his in. No one had been able to get out of her the circumstances of her assault charge that lead to her dismissal from the army. "What's this about an assault charge getting you dismissed?"

She laughed. "You're about eight drinks away from asking questions like that."

"Aw," he feigned hurt. "That's not very nice to keep secrets."

"Some secrets are meant to be kept."

"So, what kind of secret am I one drink away from?" he was starting to feel the liquor in his veins; it was making him bolder than usual, and it certainly wasn't hurting Sam's looks.

She paused for a second, rolling her eyes and chewing on her bottom lip as she debated the question in her head. "Um," she started. "I don't know, why not press your luck?"

Christmas got an evil smirk on his face, leaning over and pushing aside a curtain of copper hair to get close to her ear. "What colour panties are you wearing?" he whispered, fully expecting a fist to connect with his stomach, or a knee with his groin, which to his surprise, he felt neither.

"Red," she whispered back. "With a little maple leaf that you will never, ever, see." She smiled and winked.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8:

Across the bar Ross and Gunnar were catching up.

"I thought you said Christmas didn't like your new girl," Gunnar said, gesturing to Lee getting the girl another drink.

"She's got the Irish look, you know how Brits are for that red hair," the shorter man said with a bark of laughter.

Everyone was in good spirits that night. The mission had gone well and they were all in for a big payday, why not celebrate and live it up a little? Besides, who knew what Jack's resurfacing would bring.

"So, tell me the truth, you and Jack. Not as your friend, but as your employer, is it something I'm going to have to worry about?" Ross asked, though really he wanted to know from both angles. It didn't serve him any good having a woman like Jack on the team if she was tempermental and constantly having lovers' quarelles with Gunnar; she was tempermental enough before they disappeared.

"We fucked," he said pretty bluntly. "It was pretty good," he added as if an afterthought, taking a long swig from his beer.

It wasn't exactly the answer Ross had wanted. "You know what I mean, Gunnar," he said, a little more irritated. "Is this going to cause problems for the team?"

"No more than it did before, Barn," Gunnar assured him, but it wasn't all that reassuring, to be honest. Jack was volitile at the best of times, with the addition of further emotional and romantic entanglement with Gunnar, and Christmas' desire to play the white knight... Well, to say Ross was no longer concerned with the nuclear meltdown Sam would cause would be to put it lightly.

"So what's with the 'temp'?" Gunnar asked, swiging his beer, taking a full one off the tray of a passing barmaid, replacing it with his empty.

"Church suggested her," Ross said by way of explaination. "Went to him looking for a replacement for you went AWOL. She's an Afghan vet; Canadian. Victoria Cross and Military Merit. She's a sharp shooter too; saved Ying Yang from running into an ambush."

Gunnar was eyeing the younger woman up the way a man eyes a steak before ordering. She was chatting with Christmas, but he couldn't tell from this distance whether she was flirting with him or not. She certainly wasn't hanging off him, touching him in anyway, or thrusting her chest in his face, and Gunnar felt he vaugely remembered Tool saying something and Sam responding, insinuating that she and Christmas were not on the same page.

His loss. There was a hot little body under there, and Gunnar was tempted to put it under him.

"Don't you ever feel guilty?" Ross said, his voice exasperated.

"For what?" Gunnar replied, falling out of his lustful thoughts and backto reality.

"About that," he said, knowing full well what was going on in the German's messed up mind. "You just spent the last two weeks with Jack, not to mention the fact the woman is obviously attached to you. If you don't feel the same way, you shouldn't have shacked up with her like that."

"As if I could have said no," Gunnar interrupted. "The woman's a fucking psychopath. If I'd have said no she would have cut my nuts off and fed them to me."

"Yeah, that's why you said yes," Ross said, rolling his eyes, draining the last of his beer. "Look, have fun, play the field, whatever. It's not my business. But when it starts to effect my business, and it will, I will come down on you like the Berlin Wall. Understood."

"Understood."

"Good."

The two men parted ways. What else could really be said after that? Gunnar had his eyes on this Sam girl, but decided now might not be the right time. He knew Christmas had been upset when Jack had first taken a shine to him back when the Brit had invited her to the team. It was Lee's attempt to get to know the woman better, to make an impression on her, and to eventually win her over. He was such a fairy tale believer, Gunnar thought bitterly to himself. Christmas wanted to be Lancelot rushing in to danger to save the damsel in distress.

Jack hadn't bought it. She had flirted and teased him, but it was clear, to Gunnar at least, that she didn't have any interest in sleeping with Christmas. Not that it meant anyone else could. It didn't take him long to figure out he was the one she had set her sights on. Well, now they've had each other. Neither had made any promises; it wasn't a "relationship." They were just two people who enjoyed each other's company, and bodies, for a little while.

Right?


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9:

The bar crowd started to fade, leaving the Expendables drinking as the bar staff started their closing. Yang had gone home, Toll Road and Hale Caeser followed shortly after until only Gunnar, Tool, Christmas, Barney and Sam remained.

"Well," Tool said, standing up. "I'd say it's about time to let these ladies close down shop, wouldn't you all agree?"

There were nods from around the table.

"Everyone good to drive?" said one of the charming bar maids, gesturing to Tool who had been putting them back pretty hard.

"Aw, sugar," he said, reaching out for her hand. "You might have to help this old dog find his way home." No one at the table quite understood how Tool was so charming, but they couldn't argue with the results. The young girl took his hand and they walked off towards the door.

"Wow," Sam said, not entirely sure what was going on. "Did everyone else just see that? I mean, did Tool really just..."

"Yup," Christmas said, swigging back the rest of his beer.

"He's a charmer," said Barn with a smile, watching as Tool wandered out of the bar with the barmaid.

"Uh, did he just leave with the key for the bar?" Sam asked, unaware.

"Naw, Jack gave Barn and I each keys," Gunnar said. There was a bit of a silence, where he took a sideways glance at Sam. She looked pretty damn good, but too much clothing, far too much clothing.

Barney and Christmas were having their own side conversation, with Sam and Gunnar listening quietly. She looked up; was he... No, he couldn't be. Christmas had told her all about Gunnar and Jack, as well as their two week long love in that lead to her being here. But, that aside, Sam could have sworn he was giving her the hungry eyes.

She blushed a little and turned her head away. She wasn't going to say she was afraid of this unknown woman, she didn't want to give herself any more trouble than she already suspected she had, but still... His eyes kept looking at her, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth when he caught her eye.

In his mind's eye, Gunnar was gesturing that she should find reason to stand up for a while, to leave the table and go to the washroom, perhaps. He wished there had been an inconspicuous way to get her number from Ross; he'd have been able to send her a simple text message and have his way with her. Poor ol' White Knight Sir Lee Christmas; nice guys always finish last.

"Excuse me," she said, giving herself a reason to stand up from the table.

What a good little soldier, Gunnar thought to himself. I wonder what other orders she will obey without question.

"Okay, so just what the fuck do you think you're doing?" Christmas barked at Gunnar, soon as he heard the sound of the ladies' room door close. "Making fucking eyes at Sam? As if!" He stood up, knocking the table over. He was about to make a move to launch himself at Gunnar.

"What the fuck did I ever do to you!" he shouted, but Barney intervened.

"Christmas, calm down!" he said, putting his hand on his chest as Christmas still surged forward.

"First Jack, now Sam!" the bald Brit hissed. "Can't I get just one of them?"

Gunnar looked at him, unworried. "Can't help it if they aren't turned on by your white knight games, Christmas. Sometimes girls just want the bad boy..." Another evil smirk as he stood up, turning his palms towards the two. "Just deal with it."

He went off to the back of the bar, presumably to the men's room.

"Don't let him bother you," Ross said, brushing his friend's chest.

"But..."

"I know. I know. Life ain't fair."

The two took their seats one again. "Do you think she would?"

"Sam?" Ross shook his head. To be honest, Ross had felt that she had been a little enamoured by his own charm, but he wasn't that careless. Chances are she wasn't going to get involved with anyone on the team; she was more professional than that. She was certainly smarter than to stir up any more potential shit.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10:

"What the fuck are you doing?"

It was Sam's disembodied voice that screamed from the ladies' room. She sounded offended. She sounded violated.

She sounded pissed.

The scream was followed by the sound of the door swinging open and Gunnar falling backwards out of it, grunting as he hit the ground.

"You fucking bitch!" He shouted.

Ross and Christmas took to their feet but stopped short. What on earth was going on?

Sam came next out of the bathroom. "Just what do you think you are doing?" her voice was in full drill sergeant mode.

"What you know you wanted me to do," he replied. Of course, he had thought she had wanted to meet him, that he had been clear in his gesture.

"What I wanted?" she asked, her indignation obvious. "Was the No not a clue?" she hissed, rushing towards him, dealing a harsh kick to his ribs.

Gunnar got to his feet, scrambling and holding his side. "Crazy bitch," he hissed.

Wrong again. She swung at him, a wild right hook that went wide as Gunnar stepped back, grabbing her fist and spinning her back to him. She was wrapped tight against him, but not yet panicked. She drew her head forward and then back, sharply, catching him in the nose. Nothing he could have done to avoid that one.

With his eyes watering he threw her to his left. She hit the wall a few feet away from him with a solid thud. She was stunned, an exposed wooden beam cracking against her ribs, forcing her to suck air. She sunk to a knee, desperately trying to get her breath back again.

"Gunnar," Ross said. It broke the large German's concentration.

"Just a misunderstanding, Barn," he said, with an awkward smirk. He shook his head and headed towards the back exit.

Before Christmas could run off after Gunnar, Ross stopped him. "You always want to play the hero, well here is your chance," Ross gestured to Sam, still trying to recover from having the wind roughly knocked out of her.

Ross disappeared out the back exit after Gunnar leaving Christmas to be the hero he always wanted. He wasn't quite sure how close to Sam he really wanted to get just yet.

"You okay?" he crouched low, but out of arms' reach; he didn't want to get hit with a surprise punch.

"Yeah," she said, swallowing a lump in her throat and a whole lot of air. "Jolly giant's a big brute, isn't it?"

"What happened?"

"I think we got our wires crossed," she shook her head, trying to stand up. Her back was stiff where she had impacted the wall.

"What do you mean 'wires crossed'..." Christmas didn't like the sound of that. It sounded like not only was Gunnar trying to scam on Jack, but he was trying to force himself on the new girl.

"Don't worry about it," she said. Truly, if she hadn't been shocked, and warned about Jack, she might have given in, at least a little. Christmas was giving her puppy dog eyes; big, brown and soft, imploring her to be honest. Jesus Christ, she thought to herself. "I don't want to talk about it," she said quickly before pushing him out of the way.

"Where are you going?" he asked, grabbing her around the wrist.

"Home."

"Not on your bike, you've had too much," he said, pulling her closer to him, not intimately close. She had just put Gunnar, a man much larger than him, on his ass for invading her personal space. If nothing else, Christmas was a smart man, and he preferred to learn from other people's mistakes. "Let me call you a cab, sweetheart," he said, slipping an arm around her waist, noticing the curve of her hip and swell of her breast.

She blinked as he put his hand around her back; she could feel the heat of his hand through her two shirts. His eyes locked on hers and he pulled her closer. Her heart rate began to race and Sam swallowed hard.

"Your heart is pounding," he whispered, coming closer, closing the space between then. "Nervous?"

She didn't say anything, but her body was trembling. It would be hard for Christmas to tell whether she was trembling from fear or excitement, and to be honest even Sam wasn't quite sure.

"Let's call you a cab," he said, smiling at her reassuringly.

"What about you?"

"Aw, sweetheart," he smirked. "I'll be fine. I'm a big boy, and besides, we aren't far from Tool's, I can crash on the couch there and sleep it off."

She gave him a skeptical look; she didn't think for a minute he'd do anything but get on his bike and ride home.

"You don't believe me?"

"Not even a little," she said with a smirk, moving away from him, jutting her hip out.

Christmas was distracted by the swell of her hip, the curve where it sucked into her tiny little waist before surging out again at her ribs. "You're right," he admitted. "But I'm sober as a priest on Sunday. Watch," he said, sauntering over to the bar and picking up two darts from behind the counter.

"If you can hit the bullseye," he said, handing her one of them. "You can ride home. Same goes for me. Sounds fair?"

"Deal," she agreed, taking the dart. She stood right beside him. "On three?"

"Deal."

"1..." Sam smirked, looking over at Christmas. "3!" she said, skipping two all together.

Sam threw her dart and Christmas shortly after; they both hit the bullseye almost at the same time.

"That wasn't fair," he said, spinning, locking her into his arms.

"All's fair," she said with a smirk. "Now give me my keys." She grabbed her keys and smiled at him. "Thanks for making sure I was okay."

"Are you sure you'll be alright? You never did give me the details," he pressed a little harder, still holding her close.

"And I'm not going to tell you anymore," she said, pulling away.

"Aw, sweetheart, you don't need to play hard to get," he said, holding his arms open.

"G'night Prince Charming," she called over her shoulder. "Oh, and Christmas?" she said, pausing at the doorway.

"Yes?" he said, a little too eager.

"It's Sam. Not sweetheart."

Damn.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11:

"What the hell were you thinking?" Barney said, the anger barely contained in his voice as he came up behind the tall German.

"It was just some crossed connections, Barn," he said with a shrug.

"Why do I not believe that, Gunnar?"

"Trust issues?" All jokes aside, the only thing that had been seriously hurt was his ego. He had thought he had been perfectly clear, that the woman had understood what he was looking for. Apparently not.

"Seriously," Barny said. "Look, I need to know I can trust you. And I need to know that shit with you and Jack ain't gonna affect the way we do business. Got it, Gunnar?"

"Got it," the larger man replied.

"And, somehow, I figure if Jack found out you were willing to go after another woman, who happened to be a new addition to the team, it might make working with her difficult to say the least."

"She is who she is," Gunnar said with a shrug, as if he were both excusing and exasperated by the woman's behaviour. She was so hot; her temper, her body, her personality. She was a fire cracker, that's for sure. But... She wasn't... Well, balanced to start. There were a lot of things Jack was, but there were also a lot of things that Jack wasn't. He was getting the feeling that the things Jack wasn't, Sam was.

Cold, with a violence that wasn't excessive unlike the darker haired woman.

"I want to know exactly what happened," Ross said, breaking Gunnar out of his headspace.

"And if I don't want to tell you?"

"We did perfectly fine without you in Cuba," Ross said, his voice holding just a little bit of threat. "I'd hate to lose you, but I will do what I have to for the best of the team."

Gunnar rolled his eyes and took a deep breath. "Nothing happened," Gunnar admitted, walking to his bike. "I thought I was clear with what I thought was going to happen, but guess not. I pinned her up against the wall and tried my best but..." He stopped, swinging his leg over the large Harley, sinking down and looking up at Ross. "I didn't force her. I had already started backing off when she hit me."

"Why'd she have to hit you, Gunnar?"

"She didn't. Like I said, I was backing off."

Ross was torn. He didn't know much about Sam, but he knew enough about Gunnar that he felt he could trust the man. He wasn't the kind of man who enjoyed forcing himself on women; he had never had an issue with Gunnar taking license when a woman said "no." And there was the issue of Sam's assault on her military jacket. Perhaps she wasn't as far from the explosive Jack in personality as they had all hoped.

"Let's not let this get in the way when Jack gets back."

Gunnar was going to argue, but Ross cut him off, abruptly walking away from the conversation. He made a mental note to try to find out more about Sam's assault charge and what was going on there.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12:  
It was back to the combat fatigues that they had first been introduced. Sam wore little make up, but was back to being one of the men, though she did blush when she looked towards Christmas, and avoided looking at Gunnar as much as possible. Her copper hair was braided at the nape of her neck. She wore a half zipped hoody over a white tank top, covering up what the men wanted to see the most.  
"We don't have any work lined up, but I'll go talk to Church tomorrow and see if there is something new coming down the line. I can hardly imagine the need for our particular type of work has dried up," Ross said looking at his assembled crew. Ying Yang, Hale Caeser and Toll Road had left when they knew that today would not be the day to get new work. They'd checked in and headed off their own ways.  
Christmas and Tool sat talking with Sam, it appeared as if they were trying to talk the woman into getting a tattoo. Gunnar was upstairs.  
"I could do an angry little beaver on your hip bone," Tool said, smirking and stifling a chuckle. "You know, to represent how patriotic you are."  
Sam let a little smirk cross her lips, but she wasn't having it. "You think you're the first person to make that joke, Tool?" she said with a wink. "I grew up making those jokes."  
"You gotta give him points for trying, swe-Sam," Christmas said, catching himself before he said sweetheart. "What about a maple leaf?"  
She thought about it for a minute. She had thought about it in the past, but never gone through it. Several of the men she had served with, engineers mostly, had army green Canadian flags on their shoulders.  
"You might be onto something, but I'll pass for now," she said with a smirk.  
"You're denying me a beautiful canvas, you know that right?" Tool teased her, getting a roll of her eyes and a shake of her head.  
"You're way too dramatic, Tool," she said, getting out of the chair.  
Gunnar came down the stairs, two at a time. "Good, you're leaving," he said, trying to intervene and get her to the back door.  
"Uh," she said blinking but being ushered towards the back. "What's going on...?" she asked, looking towards Christmas or Tool for some answer.  
"She's coming," was all Gunnar offered, putting a steadying hand on the Sam's back, pushing her still.  
"Who the fuck is that?" the voice of a woman shouted like a wild boar feeling challenged for her territory. It was Jack, the woman the men had been so afraid of. Sam didn't see what all the fuss was. She was beautiful, that much was true. She had caramel coloured skin and almond shaped eyes; Sam would go so far as to say that she was at least half Native, and given the location probably Seminole. Her dark hair was wild around her head; if she wasn't screaming like a mad cow it would probably look very sexy. She wore a low cut yellow halter top and white shorts, showing off her very long, tanned legs. Little wedge sandals bumped her height up, but she still wasn't as tall as Sam.  
She didn't look intimidating, nor did she sound very intimidating. What she reminded Sam of was a teenager, wild with righteous indignation when she's told she cannot do something she feels is her right. Of course, if the men were afraid of her, maybe there was something to this little girl. Or, maybe they weren't as tough as Sam thought they were.  
Most likely scenario, she thought to herself, they were intimidated because she was pretty, and probably could handle a gun. They liked having her around as a fuck toy and a spank bank supplier. They didn't want to risk losing that.  
Everything in the shop stopped. the usually smart mouthed Tool stood silent, Gunnar's hand left Sam's back, but was otherwise still. Christmas and Ross stood stock still, as if Jack would fail to notice them if they didn't move.  
"Well?" she said, her voice rough with indignation. This was her place; they were her guys. Who ever this intruder was, she was going to have to face Jack's wrath for trespassing on her territory.  
"Well," Ross said, finding his balls and squaring his shoulders. "Jack, this is Sam. We brought her on as a freelancer when you and Gunnar took off. She worked pretty well, so we're thinking of keeping her on."  
"Excuse me?"  
Now he's done it, Christmas thought, moving very smoothly to Sam's side. Perhaps Sam would be able to distract Jack long enough that Christmas could get out. After all, up until last night, he had been totally against keeping Sam on for this exact reason. Her skill was unquestionable, she fit with the team, except for the potential of this to happen.  
"You weren't answering your phone," Ross said, his tone flat and matter of fact. He wanted to ensure Jack that this wasn't a matter of being replaced. This was business. "It's just business, Cupcake," he said, holding his hands open to her. "It's nothing personal."  
"Bull shit!" she hissed at him, stalking over to Sam. "And where exactly did you find her? Strippers R US?"  
"I said pardon?" Sam said, pushing through Gunnar and Christmas to meet Jack face to face.  
"You heard me."  
"Big words for a whore who's tits are about ready to fall out of her shirt."  
"What did you call me?"  
"Sorry," Sam said with a shrug. "Of the five languages I speak, skank isn't one of them. I'll try to speak slower so you can keep up. Put. Some. Clothes. On."  
"Why you!" Jack had enough. How dare this woman come into her garage, with her men, and insult her. She launched herself at Sam, intending to do some serious damage. She put her shoulder down, she would tackle the woman and, once she got the stranger on her back, it'd be easy enough to rearrange that plain face. Poor thing, Jack thought to herself. As if she wasn't tragic enough now, after Jack was done with her, she imagined, the poor stranger would be absolutely revolting.  
Good, she thought. That'll teach her for trying to move in on her territory, namely the men.

Jack was a good scrapper; she fought in the bar on a regular basis. She had taken on men, women and a few she didn't know what to make of. She felt she knew what to expect from the woman standing in front of her. Sure, she wasn't technically dressed like a stripper; in fact, this stranger looked more like a former military lifer than a street walker. The combat cargo pants, the square of her shoulders, the way she kept her head up until the last second.

At the last second, Sam spread her stance, her left leg going back for balance. It looked as though Jack meant to tackle Sam around the waist, but Sam had no interest in making it easy. She dropped her head and shoulders, crouching low at the last second, managing to catch the other woman around the waist.  
The pair spun, with Tool, Christmas and Gunnar scrambling to get out of the way. They crashed into the tattoo chair, knocking it over into the mirror.  
"You bitch," Jack screeched like a banshee, trying to swing at Sam as she let the other woman go. Her weight was off balance, and in her high heels as sexy as they were, she didn't have the secure footing for the hay maker she was going for. That didn't mean she missed her target, entirely. She had been aiming for a knock out blow to Sam's face; the impact was dead on, but not as strong as to knock the other woman over.  
Sam stood over Jack, who was in a heap on the floor. While she might have looked sexy before, now she looked disheveled. Sam blinked, touching a hand to her cheek. It was tender, but the cheek bone was not cracked.  
There was an awkward silence in the shop. Tool, Gunnar and Christmas were well within the strike zone, but Ross kept a careful eye in the corner. He had made a promise when Christmas had brought Jack into the group that he would never let a member of the team hurt her, but he might be reconsidering that right now. She had gone off the handle one too many times, and if anyone was to put her in her place, it might be Sam.  
Jack was stunned, on the ground, looking like a wild child beaten for the first time. Sam stood over her, her back to the men. Her shoulders were squared, her stance solid. She was a soldier, Ross reminded himself. Jack had gone through part of the training required to be a Marine, but had scrubbed out due to the very anger and temper that had got her into trouble just now.  
He hated to think it, but Ross was kind of happy someone had been able to legitimately knock her on her ass. Everyone needs to be beat at one time or another; no one is ever perfect.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13:

"You done?" Sam asked, offering her hand to the other woman. She was a believer of the other school from Jack, or so it would seem. She believed women in service, even if they were missionaries rather than actual soldiers, should stick together.

For her efforts at reconciliation, Sam got a wad of spit in her palm.

"Fuck you, cunt," Jack said, bringing herself to her feet and readjusting her skirt.

"I can see why you keep her around," Sam said, picking up a shammy used to wipe down bikes off a shop bench. "She's such a charmer." She wiped her hand clean. "I hope she's more effective in a real fight. And honey, close your legs; I can see what's up that skirt of yours and I'm sure I'm not the only one."

Jack narrowed her eyes at Sam, bristling to go a second time. Gunnar put a hand on her shoulder and shook his head.

"Cupcake, sometimes there's no shame in standing down when you're out gunned," he said, his voice low enough to keep most everyone from hearing. He didn't want her to be any more embarrassed than she already was. The more embarrassed she became, the less rational she would be, the less willing to listen to reason or logic.

"Fuck you," she hissed. "I see how it is. I go for a little while and you lot can't keep it in your pants so you gotta find another bitch."

"You're taking this the wrong way, cupcake," Christmas said, his hands held out in a gesture of peace.

"Hold on," Sam said, tilting her head at Jack. "I never signed on for sex. If you're the team cum dumpster, that's your business. I'm here because I have skills that don't require me to be on my back or knees."

"Dominey!" Ross shouted at her. She looked at him, rolled her eyes and stopped talking. "Enough. Both of you."

"But Barney," Jack said, her voice trying to seduce him, her bottom lip stuck out.

Sam rolled her eyes, putting the rag in the wash tub.

"Don't try to be cute, Jack," he said. "You're the one who disappeared for almost three weeks. You didn't answer your phone, you didn't return our messages. What did you expect us to do? We can't just wait for you to decide it's time to do a job."

Jack crossed her arms over her chest like a petulant child, trying to look seductive and smouldering. It was working; the longer Ross looked at Jack, the harder it was for him to tell her to leave.

He turned his attention to the other woman. Sam stood at parade rest, her arms crossed behind her back and shoulders square. She met his eyes, her chin held high. There was a bruise starting to form under her left eye where she had been hit.

Ross tried to think of something to say to her, but what could he say that wouldn't inspire the wild woman on the other side of the shop to violence once again. He opted to say nothing, simply look her in the eye. She nodded; it was understood nothing needed to be said. Bless the fact she was a soldier.

"You're both dismissed," he said.

Sam nodded and went to the mess at Tool's tattoo station, moving past Jack without so much as a look. She looked at Tool instead. "Sorry about the mess," she said, righting the stool and beginning to collect the broken glass.

"Dismissed? What, am I a child?" Jack went off again. This time Sam ignored her, letting the other woman go off on her own tangent. She was starting to see why Jack had never seen active combat as a Marine. Her temper and unwillingness to follow orders would be enough to cause some Marine commanders she knew to put a bullet right between the young woman's pretty eyes.

"You're acting like one, cupcake," Ross said. "And be lucky you aren't fired."

"Fired!" There goes that temper again. "You can't fire me! You need me."

Sam held her tongue but shot a look to Tool that suggested perhaps "need" was too strong a word.

"Not if you're going to act like a spoiled and pampered child," Ross said calmly.

It just fired her up more. "Spoiled? Pampered?" her voice got louder and more distressed. "As if! Your so-called replacement for me probably had a nicer life than I could have even dreamed of!" she screamed.

Again, Sam held her tongue. She had a good idea what Jack meant; the military was not a pleasant place for a woman, especially when she was trying to make her career there. For someone like Jack, who seemed to take even the smallest criticism as a huge personal insult, the Marines would be hell.

Sam chanced a look at Jack, but wished she hadn't. All the sympathy she was developing for the other woman was washed away in a wave of crocodile tears. "I understand," she sobbed. "I get it. Out with the old, in with the new." She wobbled on her wedge heels towards the door. "I won't darken your doorstep any more." With that, she stormed out, slamming the man door as she went.

"Don't be so dramatic, Jack," Ross said, exasperated. "Gunnar, go talk to her."

"Why me?"

"Because," Christmas said. "You're the one she likes."

"Just use those baby blues," Tool said with a laugh from the ground where he was helping Sam clean up the mess. When the two women had crashed into the chair they had sent many of his tools, not to mention inks and gauze, flying.

"Sorry about the mess," Sam said to him, looking very apologetic through her little smirk.

"Aw, don't worry about it, sweetheart," he said. "You better get some ice on that eye before it starts to puff up."

"I've had worse," she said with a smirk.

"The question is if you've had better," he said with a smirk.

"You're a dirty old man, aren't you?" she smirked.

"I might be many things, my dear," he said, straightening up. "But call me old again and I'll show you how old I am."

Meanwhile Christmas and Ross were rolling their eyes and had congregated in a separate corner.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14:

Ross and Christmas watched as Sam and Tool cleaned up the mess left by the cat fight. Gunnar had gone off in search of Jack, in hopes of calming the wild girl down and bring her to some sort of common sense.

"Well that went better than I thought it was going to," Christmas said with an over dose of his dry, British sarcasm.

"Quiet you," Ross was in no mood. It had gone better than they had hoped, yes, but that doesn't meant it went well.

"Think Gunnar will be able to talk Jack into calming down?" Christmas asked, looking over at Sam as she helped Tool clean up.

"I hope so," Ross said, admiring the backside of their new addition. "It'd be sad to have to send one of them packing."

"Very," Christmas said, following Ross' line of sight. "Those pants aren't much of anything until they get tight, now aren't they?"

Ross snapped out of it. "I don't have a clue what you're talking about, Christmas," he said, clapping the other man on the shoulder, pushing off from the pillar he'd been leaning on. It was midafternoon, and there were no jobs lined up. Ross was feeling restless; he needed to do something to clear the cobwebs out of his head.

"I think I'm going to go to Church," he announced. Maybe he could find out more about Sam Dominey and this assault charge from when she was still in the army.

"Thought you said he didn't have any work?"

"Think I might see if I can find some more dirt out on our friend there," Ross said, gesturing to Sam. "Maybe he can help us decide which crazy woman we should keep on staff if it comes down to having to choose."

"It's a hard choice," Christmas said, still admiring the tight ass of the prone girl.

"Made any easier considering one is a psycho bitch with only a mild interest in teasing your wanting British cock?"

"And the other?"

"A possible psychotic ex-army officer who assaulted multiple military personnel and is pretty much an ice queen."

"An ice queen with a very hot ass," Christmas added.

"Yes, a very hot ass," Ross agreed. "Does that make us dirty old men?"

"Yes."

"Oddly, I'm okay with that."

"Me too," Christmas said, turning his eyes away from the scene. "Let us know when you find anything out?"

"Will do," he said, offering a sloppy salute to Christmas as he left.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the garage:

"You know, those two horn dogs on the other side of the shop have been starring at that fine ass of yours this whole time," Tool whispered to Sam. He smirked when she blushed. "Sweetheart, you're going to have to get a thicker skin if you're going to be sticking around."

"I know," she said, shaking her head. "I'm just... I don't..."

"You don't like men lookin' at you like you're a woman?" Tool offered.

She made a face, tilting her head to the side, raising an eyebrow, rolling her eyes and making a semi grimace with her mouth. "I guess," she finally admitted with a shrug.

"You gotta own it," Tool said, straightening up and helping Sam back to her feet. "Face it, hide it as much as you want with those baggy pants, but people are still going to see it."

She blushed deeper and tried to look away.

"That's the difference between you and Jack," he urged. "Well, that's the thing she has that you don't. You've got the basic bones, but you don't have the sauce." He made a gesture, wriggling his hips, putting his hands up at his chest to mimic breasts.

Sam couldn't help but giggle.

"Why're you so guarded? You're awful pretty when you smile," he said, leaning over his bike, shooting her a questioning glance.

She shrugged. "Pretty doesn't affect the way I shoot," she said in a flat manner. "Been my experience that good looks actually make the job just that much harder. Life's easier when they think of me as one of the guys."

"Then get used to losing the man you want to girls like Jack," he said with a wink.

She blushed deeper again.

"Gunnar isn't Jack's yet, but you might consider Christmas," he said. "If I can be so bold."

"Mixing business and pleasure has never worked out well for me..." she shrugged. "I'd rather just..."

"Be alone?"

"It's better than being hurt."

"Pull up a chair and tell Daddy Tool what they did to you," he said, swinging a leg over his bike and gesturing to the tattoo chair.

"I'd rather not," she said shaking her head. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Sam gathered her jacket and helmet and rushed out of the shop.

"I will find out," Tool said to no one inparticular. "I will find out."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Gunnar found Jack in the basement of the Rail, shooting off her stress with the .50 calibre revolver. It kicked her like a mule, but it made a big hole in the three inch thing cement and steel wall at the other end of the basement turned firing range.

"Hey!" he shouted as he came down the stairs in between rounds. "Jack!"

She spun, the gun still straight and level, until she was aimed at him. With one hand she pulled her ear protection off and narrowed her eyes. "What do you want?"

"To see if you're okay, you ran off," he continued, walking down the stairs very slowly and very carefully. She had proven to be a loose cannon, and he had already been shot in the chest with a .50 before and once was enough.

"Yeah, right," she said. There was a lot of hurt in her voice; more hurt than anything else. "Ross probably didn't even notice I left with Sam there." She lowered her aim and set the gun carefully down on the amunition table to her side.

"Don't act like such a spoiled child," Gunnar said, moving closer to her. "You don't have to get so jealous."

"No?" she questioned, putting her hands on her hips. "What would you know? It's not like they were trying to replace YOU!"

"Well," Gunnar shrugged with his awkward smirk. "They kind of were." He let out a hollow laugh, hoping that the firey woman in front of her would join in.

No dice. The woman simply crossed her arms over her chest, jutting her hip to the side.

God she was hot, he thought to himself. The way her thigh curved into her hip, then narrowed at her waist before surging outward at her ribs. Not to mention with her arms crossed like that, her already ample chest was pushed that much further out.

"Stop looking at my tits."

"Sorry," he said, snapping out of his trance. "They were trying to replace me with Sam; they didn't know Sam was Samantha. They looked at her service record and thought she was a man."

"Well, she's the best cross dresser I've ever seen," she said, continuing on her pouty teenage like temper tantrum.

Gunnar sighed in exasperation. "Why are you so worried? You saw her. You're nothing alike!" he insisted, taking a step towards the woman he had just spent 2 weeks having all kinds of carnal relations with, realizing he still didn't understand her mood swings even a little.

"Because I saw the way Ross, and Tool, and Christmas were starring at her," she hissed, immediately regretting it. She hadn't mentioned Gunnar; he had been pretty focussed on Jack as far as she knew.

"Pardon?" Okay, he had come here to make sure she was okay, not have his balls stepped on. She was claiming ownership of all the men in the shop except him? Right; not going to fly. "What does it matter if they stare at her?" His voice wasn't compassionate any more. He took another step towards her, looming like a dark cloud over the smaller woman.

She took a half step back, trying to put on her best terrified mouse face, but it did nothing. The large German continued to loom over her and she wondered if he would hit a woman.

"Answer me," he said simply.

Still no reply.

"Fine," he caved. "I get it. We all belong to you, and have to respect that? Is that it?"

"No..." she whispered. She was starting to see where his mind was working. Yes, she had spent the last two weeks with Gunnar, but that didn't mean she didn't fantasize about Christmas during that period. The two had never seen eye to eye, and Jack had been a particular point of contention between the two. She kind of enjoyed the two big, strong men vying for her attention; competing for her affection.

"You're allowed to be jealous but we aren't?" he challenged her again. "Forget it. You're mind games aren't worth my time, Jack."

"This was my spot!" she screamed when he turned to walk away from him. "And she invaded it!"

"No," Gunnar said very calmly. "We disappeared for two weeks; we left them in a rough spot," he emphasised the "we" as he spoke. "They did what they had to do in order to opperate. You are acting like a child."

"Fuck you!" she hissed, tears in her eyes. She was starting to lose what little composure she had left.

"No," he said shaking his head. "Somethings just aren't worth it."

She let out a primal scream as he left, slamming the door behind him as he left.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16:

Gunnar was bothered by the way Jack was treating him, not to mention the rest of the guys. He was more than a little jealous. She was expecting all of them to be "hers," but meanwhile he couldn't expect the same level from her? He clenched his teeth as he walked out of the basement of the Rail. The regular afternoon flies were starting to stroll in; alcoholics and shift workers priming the day.

Gunnar nodded to the girl behind the back and went out front to see Jack's black Dodge Ram screeching down the alley way. He looked over at his bike.

"Great," he muttered. There was a puddle of oil under the motor, a knife in the front tire and the brake and clutch cables had been cut.

He pulled out his cell phone and called Ross.

"Yeah, I need a pick up," he said. "At the Rail. Bring your truck."

Ross showed up and the two men wrestled the low slung Harley into the back of the truck, no easy feat but given their size and strength, it was doable.

"Wanna tell me what happened?" Ross asked as he turned the old Ford over and pulled out of the bar's parking lot.

"Do I have to tell you?" Gunnar asked, raising an eyebrow.

"She's crazy."

Gunnar just nodded with a grunt.

The two drove in silence for a while. Ross debated whether it would be in good taste to bring up his earlier questions on whether Gunnar's relationship with Jack would affect the team, but thought better of it. The giant German probably wasn't in the best of places right now, what with his bike beaten up and his ego probably bruised as well.

"Things might get worse, Barn," Gunnar finally spoke up. "Might have kind of told Jack I'm not interested any more; I don't know how she's going to take it, but I'm guessing well is not one of the options."

Ross rolled his eyes and bit his tongue, letting the other man continue.

"And I know what you're gonna say, and what Christmas is going to say," he started. "And it isn't like that; I don't want the drama and bull shit. It has nothing to do with getting bored or whatever."

"Well, at least we can prepare," Ross said, absorbing what he was being told. "Maybe tell Sam to bring her dessert fatigues and body armour in."

"It isn't about Sam."

"You know that. I know that. But think Jack will agree with you on that?"

"Good point."

When they arrived at the shop, Ross helped Gunnar unload the heavy machine and they rolled it in.

"Well look at that," Tool said, looking up from the walk in he was working on, a large skin-head having a piece of tribal work coloured in on his left arm. "Looks like you've done someone wrong there, Gunnar. Lemme guess: Jack?"

"Good guess," Gunnar replied, pushing the kick stand down and letting the bike lean to one side. More oil spilled out. "Jesus Christ!" he hissed.

"You're gonna have fun trying to get those oil stains off my floor," Tool reminded him as he went back to working. "I like to keep a clean shop; you know that, Gunnar. Wheel that bitch into the back where no one can see it dying."

He was going to protest, but Ross shook his head. It wasn't worth it. In all reality, it was Tool's building there fore they were his rules. Gunnar pushed the bike for what he hoped would be the last time into the back area of the shop.

With Gunnar gone and Tool occupied with a client, Ross felt this might be a good time to warn Sam of the possible danger she could be looking at. He felt protective of her, and of Jack. He didn't want Jack to try anything stupid and get either of them hurt, or worse. There was a very real likely that one or both of these women could get killed because of the jealous rage of one.

He hesitating dialing Sam's number, finding himself dialing the first digits of Jack's instead. He followed through, just on instinct. The phone rang, rang, rang and went to message.

"Hey, it's Jacki; you know what to do," the recorded message said.

"Hey cupcake," Ross started. "Just wanted to check and see if you were okay. Had to pick Gunnar up at the Rail; looks like there was some pretty serious damage done to his ride. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?" He paused. "Like I said, just checking in on ya. Might have a lead on a mission; it'd be handy to have you around for it," he lied. The mission was right, but Sam would be infinitely more reliable on it. She didn't have the temper, didn't need to be baby sat, and could be trusted to follow orders without going off on her own side mission, but he wanted to get Jack back. Heaven knows why, but he did.

He hung up and dialed Sam's number. It rang. And again. On the third ring she finally picked up.

"Sam Dominey," she said into the phone. There was something off in her voice, not that he knew the woman well, but he knew the sound of distress when he heard it, and he thought he heard it in her voice.

"It's Ross," he said simply, trying to get her to speak more.

"Hey Barn," she said. "I can't really talk right now. A little busy."

"Well, when you're less tied up give me a call; I need to talk business with you," he said.

Listening carefully he could swear he could hear a second voice in the background. There was hesitation on Sam's part. " Tkele, nas-tsaid. Ne-dah-than-zie doh-a-ta-h-da."

"Copy." Barney took a deep breath as he hung up the phone. He had been taught the code when he had joined the army, fighting in Vietnam. They had never used it; it was the Navejo code from World War II, but it didn't mean they didn't learn it. But how did Sam know it? He'd have to ask if they got there in time.

His phone buzzed with a text; she must have been able to get one text in before she relinquished the phone. An address. Perfect.

He dialed Christmas. "We got a problem."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Sam had just got out of the shower and was drying her hair, a towel wrapped around her and another held between her hands when there was a knock on her door. She furrowed her brow and shook her head, ignoring it. She was using a friend's apartment and wasn't expecting visitors.

Heading back to the bathroom she traded her towel for a terry cloth robe and reached for her hair dryer, and her Glock. In the mirror she inspected herself, not really any place inconspicuous to hide the Glock, so she set it on the counter, safety off. Just in case.

With the hairdryer plugged in and turned on, Sam couldn't hear the sliding door leading to the balcony open and all but silently slide shut again. She had locked it, but the person infiltrating her apartment was good at getting by simple locks like that. Sam's friend hadn't felt the need to beef up his security; he was a very secure man.

The intruder paused, listening to the whirr of the hairdryer. Good timing, she thought to herself, reading her revolver. She'd show her for invading her turf.

Sam didn't have enough time to react; it was a blur of motion, a flash of silver and the feeling of cold steel pressed against her temple.

She froze, looking in the mirror as Jack stood there, her reflection distorted by the condensation left on the glass from Sam's shower. She looked less magnificent than she had previously. Less glamour, more disparate. Her eyes were red and puffy, her skin blotchy and not that smooth, caramel colour Sam had seen before.

Sam remained calm; this wasn't the first time she'd been caught in a tough spot. Might have been the first time she had a gun aimed at her head when she was next to naked in a bathroom, but first time for everything.

"Guess you think you're pretty hot," Jack was the first one to speak. Sam noticed she was holding the revolver with only one hand; a mistake for a person of her size. Even Sam would have a hard time holding that pig with one hand and trying to fire straight, and she was easily 50 lbs heavier than the petite mix in front of her.

"I think you're blowing this way out of proportion," Sam said, watching her would be attacker in the clearing mirror.

Jack grabbed the Glock with her free hand, put the safety on and slid it into the back of her tight jeans.

"No, I'm solving a problem," the other woman muttered. "Don't play stupid. You're going to end up fucking one of them and then we're going to have a big problem."

Really? That's what this whole thing was about?

"Listen, I think you have the wrong idea about me," Sam started, her hands now up at her shoulders. She didn't move, but rather kept trying to make eye contact with the other woman through the mirror. "I'm here to work; not to get hooked up."

"Yeah, right," Jack growled. "You're just another bitch in heat and you found your way into my pack. You think I'm going to let you just waltz in here and take what's mine, you're wrong, sweetheart."

"The name's Sam, not sweetheart, and you're not making any sense," the other woman argued. "I'm not after Gunnar. I don't know what kind of girls they've brought around in the past, but I'm not the type to steal someone else's man."

"That don't matter," Jack said. "As far as you're concerned, they're all mine."

"They're grown men; they can make their own decisions," Sam argued.

Jack was about to comment when Sam's phone went off. The Blackberry was sitting on the bathroom counter, face up, where both women could easily read the name that came up: Barney Ross.

Sam looked at Jack. "Don't do anything stupid," was all the women holding the gun said.

"Sam Dominey," she said into the phone. She kept her voice as calm as she could, but it betrayed her a little. She wondered if Ross would notice. She hoped Jack wouldn't.

"It's Ross," the voice on the other end of the line said. Jack moved in closer to hear what was being said, for a minute lowering her aim but still not within reach of Sam.

"Hey Barn," she said. "I can't really talk right now. A little busy." She eyed Jack who gave her a nod; yes she was being a good little girl.

"Well, when you're less tied up give me a call; I need to talk business with you," he said.

"Hang up," Jack urged, gesturing with her gun that it was time for Sam to go now.

. " Tkele, nas-tsaid. Ne-dah-than-zie doh-a-ta-h-da." It was a long shot, an old code used in World War II; it was based on a Navajo code. Sam knew it from university; she had studied linguistics and it was part of her program that she found particularly engaging.

"Copy."

Oh thank god, she thought to herself. He understood what she was talking about.

Before she gave the phone to Jack, she managed a quick text to Ross; the apartment's address.

"Give me that," Jack said, grabbing the phone just as Sam deleted the text from her history. "What was that jibberish?"

Jibberish? Wow; guess she isn't that in touch with her Native side, Sam thought to herself but kept her mouth shut.

Jack grabbed a handful of Sam's still damp hair and dragged her out of the bathroom and down the hall. "Enough Bullshit!" Jack growled.

Sam followed, only for fear of the weapon in the unstable woman's hand. She was pretty sure she would be able to overpower the other woman, but "pretty sure" wasn't really good enough.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18:

"So let me get this straight," Christmas said while he and Ross were on their way to Sam's apartment. "You spoke to Sam and in a 60 year old Navajo code she told you Jack was trying to kill her?"

Ross thought for a second, "Pretty much."

"Right," Christmas shook his head. "And you're believing this because?"

"She knew the code, and used it, I don't think she'd do that for a cry for attention," Ross rounded the corner and was faced with a large and very modern apartment complex. "Sam said she was staying with a friend; l guess she must have some rich friends."

"Nice place," Christmas said as Ross put the truck in park and cut the engine. "What floor is she on?"

"Third," Ross said. "Wanna take the outside or inside?"

"Well, I'll be a gentleman and let the old fart take the inside," Christmas said, moving over to a very discrete fire escape. "Room number?"

"Three-Seventeen; north face," Ross called out, ducking into the building. There was a pass code, but he waited, and before long a little old lady carrying too many groceries.

Ross offered to help, and she allowed him into the building. Easy enough. He rode in the elevator to the 5th floor, then rode back down to the 3rd.

Meanwhile, on the outside of the building, Christmas climbed the escape to the second balcony, making his way around to the north face of the building. He wasn't sure, but he took the first window and peeked around. There were voices in the back, and Christmas could swear they sounded female. He looked around and saw some pictures on the mantel; one of the people in the pictures was definitely Sam. There was a photo of her graduation from university, as well as photos of her in dress uniform, combat uniform, post cards and other memorabilia.

Guess that explains why she wasn't interested in any of them. The guy in the picture was old enough to be her father, bald to boot. Ugly guy, Christmas thought to himself. Wonder how he got a girl like her.

At least he knew he was in the right apartment. With the voices in the back bedroom and the front door a clear shot, Christmas unlocked the front door, letting Ross in. "Definitely Sam's friend's place," Christmas said. "There's pictures of her and the guy all over."

"Lucky man," Ross said without looking at the pictures. "Let's make sure that he stays that lucky..."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19:

"Really, this is all over men?" Sam said, putting her hands up and Jack forced her into a kneeling position. "Are you really that petty?"

"You really don't get it do you?" Jack said, pulling the hammer back on her gun. "This is about territory. You invaded mine, so I'm going to kill you."

There was a soft click in the front hall; Sam knew it was the lock settling back into place. She hoped it wasn't her friend returning, that would not bode well for Jack. Best case scenario it was Ross with one or two back ups.

"Jack," Christmas' voice called. He was calm and held a taser aimed at Jack. "Calm down, put the gun down."

"Why?" she hissed. "So your pretty little fuck toy doesn't get a new hole?"

Sam bit her tongue but narrowed her eyes, waiting for the pressure of the barrel of the gun against her head to release even the slightest bit, showing her Jack's attention was truly on the man at the door.

It came a second later as Christmas continued talking in his soothing English accent. "Cupcake, put the gun down," he said again, holding his other hand open palmed to her. God she was crazy, Christmas thought to himself. It was always the crazy ones. "None of us have any interest in her," he lied. "She's just a member of the team. Put the gun down."

She turned to get a better view of Christmas, unaware Ross was lurking around the blind wall on the other side of the room.

Ross came out, but he was old and slower than Sam. She shifted her weight, first goal was get her head and vital organs out of the line of fire from that cannon. With that done she lashed out, a long leg sweeping at Jack's legs.

The other woman wasn't expecting this and fell heavily to the ground, stunned into immobility for a second. Sam wasted no time in taking control of her right hand, grabbing it by the wrist and slamming it down against the hard, ceramic tiles. Once, twice, and on the third time Jack finally relinquished hold of the gun only to start fighting back.

Ross and Christmas stood stunned on either side of the women.

Jack retaliated by hooking Sam's shoulders with her legs, rolling the other woman off her and gaining the position of dominance. She tried to pin Sam down with one arm, with the idea she'd use the other to lay a few quick jabs to the face of the other woman.

Didn't work out so good. She got one good shot in, but it glanced across the woman's already bruised cheek. It hurt, but it didn't break anything or cause her eyes to water with blinding tears.

Jack forgot Sam was almost one and a half times her size, and much stronger physically, with less weight in her bra. Sam caught her first in her hand, and with one hand free she gripped the other woman's neck, squeezing against the throbbing of her veins and arteries.

It didn't take long for Jack to weaken her grip on Sam's shoulder, letting the large woman buck her off and get to her feet behind her. She snatched the Glock back and ejected the clip, tucking it into her back pocket, the pistol into the back of her jeans, before kicking the revolver to Christmas.

Sam took several deep breaths, refusing to let her guard down as Ross and Christmas stepped forward. Ross put a hand on Sam's shoulder while Christmas tended to Jack.

"She'll be fine," Sam said between breaths. "I didn't hold on long or hard enough to make her pass out."

"Sh," Ross said, knowing the last think Jack wanted to hear was the sound of Sam's voice right now. "C'mon," he said, taking Sam by the arm and leading her back into the spartan kitchen. "We'll get some ice on that eye before it gets worse."

She sat down on one of the stools lining the counter and Ross fished out some ice cubes from the freezer.

"Towels are in the drawer next to the sink on the left," she said, still a little shaky from the adrenaline. "Thanks," she took the towel and pressed it to her left eye.

Ross hadn't taken the time to look at the pictures of Sam's friend when they had come in, but there was a picture of him and her, both wearing fatigues in a desert setting standing with arms wrapped around each other's shoulders, on the fridge. She was holding a .50 calibre weapon and he had a rocket launcher over his opposite shoulder. He looked vaguely familiar; then it hit him.

"So, how's your friend going to like blood on the floor?" Ross asked watching her carefully.

She shrugged. "It's my dad's place," she admitted. "When I was 7 I drove his Corvette into the living room so I'm guessing a few drops of blood on a white carpet won't be such a big deal."

She had no idea of the bomb she just dropped on Ross.

Mister Church was her father.


End file.
